Why in the Heck?
by Perfectly Maple
Summary: Tomo just needed a warm up for the sports festival. Osaka was just as good of an exercise as any. Tomo/Osaka yuri. Rated for sexuality, perversion, and utter lack of tact pretty mild for M, though, all things considered .


**AN: Written just to give the poor people in the SpongeBob fandom a break. Plus, I've sorta exhausted all my yaoi ideas. Time for some yuri! Apologies if this pairing is considered crack, or overdone, or anything. I'm new to the fandom (fanfiction wise-I've been a fan of the manga and anime for far too long). So . . . yeah. Tomo/Osaka idiocy. I really have no business writing for this fandom, but like I said, I really need to write something other than SpongeBob smut. Not that any of you care. Flame away, dahlings.**

"But Tomo, I don't want a quickie!" The slow drawl of the Osakan accent was enough to drive Tomo's already overactive libido into maximum overdrive.

If she had a prick, it would totally be hard right now.

"Come on, Osaka! Just a little fun to get our muscles pumped for the sports festival! Think of it as a warm up. You Osakans are into crazy things like that, right?"

"Crazy things like what? Oh, are you talkin' 'bout how we eat fried octopus balls again?"

Tomo frowned, perplexed by the ineptitude of her fellow student. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, Ayumu."

Osaka didn't know whether to be startled by the use of her given name, or the fact that Tomo didn't understand her train of thought. She was used to her other classmates not getting her, but Tomo usually seemed to go along with her wackiness, at least in spirit.

"Frankly, Osaka," Tomo continued, "I don't get your fixation with male genitalia. Its getting kinda weird. I mean, what kind of lesbian . . . no, what kind of Osakan . . . continually talks about balls?"

"But it's a common food of the region!" She defended, losing her confusion in a bubble of further dizzying bewilderment. "Wait, isn't sex s'posed to tire you out? I can't be all tired! I gotta get it together this time."

"It doesn't make you tired! It only pumps you up for more activity!" At this, Tomo karate chopped the air, stimulating the complete rush of energy only achieved from hot girl-on-girl sex.

"Oh . . . does it work for brains too?"

"Sure. I mean, people in pornos are always spouting off really witty one-lines."

"So then Chiyo-chan must have a lot of sex, huh?"

"Wha-forget about her. Come on, Osaka. Let's go now before Yukari gives her pep talk."

"Why do we have to rush into this? Can't we just wait until . . ."

"NOOOOO!!" Tomo fell to her knees, panic evident in her demeanor. "WAIT? I CAN'T WAIT! I NEED MY RELEASE!! ONE LIFE, ONE MEETING!!"

"Uh . . . Tomo, I heard the janitors don't mop real good. Maybe you shouldn't be layin' on the floor."

"Forget the floors!" Tomo sprung up, grasping onto the unstartlable Japanese girl in desperation. "You. Me. Bathroom. Now."

"But I don't have to go-"

At this, Tomo couldn't contain herself, silencing the thick twang of her quirky, inertial lust with her lips.

And her tongue.

And with . . . well, other available things that fit in one's mouth.

The duo DID stumble into the bathroom, as previously requested by Tomo, prompting Osaka to draw back and finish her sentence.

"-to the bathroom, Tomo," She gasped, back colliding with the cold porcelain sink.

"Shut the fuck up, Osaka," Tomo purred, licking the dark eyed girl's neck hungrily.

"Hey Tomo," Osaka panted, "Do I taste like fried octopus balls?"

Tomo paused, unlatching her teeth's hold on the smaller's flesh. "What kind of question is that?" She scowled.

"Well, they say you are what you eat."

"You actually eat fried octopus balls?" Tomo's eyes widened, disbelieving this revelation. If this was the case then . . . well, actually, she might have to try the dish for herself. Osaka tasted pretty damn good. But that could have been the hormones talking.

"Yeah. They're my favorite delicacy." Osaka blinked, turning her head to the side as Tomo continued her lustful nipping.

"I lied," Osaka chirped minutes later, halfway through undressing, further delaying the process.

"You lied? About what?"

"I don't eat fried octopus balls. So I shouldn't taste like 'em, right? I don't taste like 'em, do I?"

"How the hell would I know?" Tomo was already beginning to lose her energy. Did "slam, bam, thank you, ma'am" not work in all female relationships?

Whatever. It was times like these that Tomo decided to live by her lover's standby catchphrase:

Why in the heck.

Speaking of which, this is exactly what Osaka screamed (well, more like drawled in a slightly louder fashion) moments later.

Non sequitur, yes, but it sure as hell beat what she'd loudly intoned during their last encounter.

Sea slugs.


End file.
